


happy new year

by TerusSpicyLasange



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Emetophobia, New Years Eve, No beta we fall like Crowley, Other, Sad Ending, drinking to deal, fuck you, theyre exes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:19:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22060168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerusSpicyLasange/pseuds/TerusSpicyLasange
Summary: crowley celebrates new years alone
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	happy new year

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this as a vent in like 15 minutes not even.. love sucks lol x

Crowley finished the last of the vodka. He'd drank 3 bottles so far, why wasn't he happy and light like usual? Instead he just felt hollow. 

He lifted himself up from his seat, miracled up £100 to pay for his drinks and headed out of the door. He wandered through London with no real destination in mind, but he just so happened to find himself at the bookshop. He always did on nights like this.

He looked in through the window. In the cold, desaturated blue and yellow surroundings, the bookshop was a beacon of orange warmth. He saw Aziraphale inside, huddled up on one of his sofas reading a book. A figure came out from behind the corner, where the kitchenette is. The person handed Aziraphale a mug, they had one for theirself too. The figure turned around and revealed itself to be a regular customer whom Aziraphale was buddy buddy with. If Crowley wasn't around, then that customer would probably be the angels best friend. 

Crowley watched on. The customer sat down beside Aziraphale and laid his head on the principality's shoulder. His stomach lurched. Aziraphale looked down at him and kissed him. Crowley hadn't seen that loving smile in a long, long time. 

He threw up at the side of the bookshop. The bile spewed out of the demon and onto the pavement. Crowley watched as the acid melted away the cement. His mouth and chin were charred and his jacket was frayed where he'd used the sleeve to wipe his mouth. He took a minute to recover, picked up a glass bottle that was lying on the road and threw it through one of the windows. He ran like his life depended on it when he heard the surprised yelps and the clatter of a few falling books. He could hear himself laughing but felt the hot tears running down his face, burning his cheeks.

When he got back to his flat, he ran to the bathroom and ejected all of the vodka he had drank that night. He'd never gotten sober the human way and MAN did he hate it. Having a body sucked. He looked at himself in the mirror. His chin was blistering and his cheeks were tight and tender. Tears were still brimming at his eyes. He smashed the mirror.

He was sitting on his throne, knees pulled to his chest and sobbing his heart out. His knees burned from where the tears fell but he didn't care. Suddenly, there came cheering, bangs and lights in the distance. He looked out his window to see fireworks painting the sky.

Crowley reflected for a moment. Reflected on how pitiful he was, how shameful and worthless he had proved himself to be. How unforgivable and unlovable he naturally was. 

''Happy new year.'' He sighed to himself in the cold, dark lonesome of his flat.


End file.
